


The Price of War

by fanetjuh



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Post-Canon, Post-War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-25
Updated: 2017-12-25
Packaged: 2019-02-20 08:34:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,733
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13142937
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fanetjuh/pseuds/fanetjuh
Summary: The war is over, but Jon doesn't feel alive, not after all the people he had lost and for sure not before he finds Daenerys and knows that she survived too.





	The Price of War

**Author's Note:**

  * For [](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts).



> This story is written for the Game of Thrones Secret Santa organized on Tumblr

Jon felt the snow surrounding him melting while the first rays of sunlight warmed his blooded face. He couldn’t feel his arms or legs anymore. He didn’t even know if he still had arms and legs. But he could still feel his heart beating and his chest kept on moving up and down to breath even though his ribs were probably broken. He kept his eyes closed and somehow he expected death to collect his soul within the next few minutes. 

The night king was defeated. All the white walkers he had created were nothing but piles of dust and ashes. The ice dragon was now what it already should have been when Daenerys had lost him for the very first time. 

Daenerys. 

Jon’s eyes flashed open and he tried to move his head to have a look at the lifeless bodies surrounding him. Instead of cries of victory he heard soft moaning, crying and screaming. 

The world was safe. The people of Westeros would spend countless more years fighting over that pile of iron in King’s Landing. Hopefully they would not forget those who ensured they still had something to fight over. 

Sam.

Jon pushed himself up even though his entire body protested. The smell of smoke and fire made him cough, but he forced himself to stand up even though his legs couldn’t carry him. He had no idea if the blood on his clothes was from himself, from the enemies he had slaughtered, or from the friends who had died by his side. 

Whoever said that victories were sweet, had never fought a war that really mattered. And they for sure had never woken up between the lifeless bodies of comrades and brave young men who left behind wives and babies, too young to even remember their fathers when they would be old enough to realize that they were gone.

Each step Jon took felt like torture. Both because his knees were probably damaged and because he recognized more and more people laying in the already melting snow. He held his breath when he saw Sam. 

Sam had known that he would most likely not return home again and still he had been here, not planning on being anywhere but at Jon’s side during this fight. He had been too kind and too good for this world and he had paid for it with his life.

Jon kneeled down next to his dead best friend. He placed his fingers on Sam’s eyelids and closed Sam's eyes while he allowed the salted tears to roll down his cheeks. The salt burned in Jon’s wounds, but Jon barely noticed the stinging pain. “I'm sorry, Sam…” He shook his head and with a heavy heart he forced himself to straighten his back and stand up again. 

It was almost impossible to see who was still alive and who wasn’t. The night king and his army of the death were beaten, but there wasn’t much left of the army Jon and Daenerys had gathered either. 

Daenerys.

He started to walk a little faster. He had no idea where on the battlefield she was, where she could be. He had no idea if she was alive or dead. He had no idea if she was looking for him too or if she was not able to do so anymore.

Just like so many other people here on the battlefield.

Every time he saw a body with long blond hair he held his breath. And every time he let out a relieved sigh because it wasn’t her he couldn’t help feeling guilty about his relief.

All those people, all those men and women, they all had a family, they all had a home, maybe they had children or grandchildren. And most of them would never come home again. They wouldn’t see them grown up. They wouldn’t arrange their marriage. They wouldn’t teach them all they knew about life. But at least the children could grow up and marry. At least they got the chance to live.

“Daenerys?” Jon stood still when he finally saw her.

She laid on the back of her dragon. Strands of hair had escaped her complicated braids and her clothes and face were covered in blood. She had her eyes closed, but she was still breathing. 

“Daenerys!” Jon took a deep breath before he walked closer to the dragon. He hoped that Drogon understood that he was here to help the queen, not to finish the task. Carefully and step by step he climbed the wing of the majestic creature. And eventually he could kneel down next to the brave woman who had not been hiding behind her army, but who had fought at the front line. 

“Jon…” Her voice was weak and she coughed and moaned after she had said his name. 

“It's okay.” He was not sure if that was true. He didn’t know who she had lost. He didn’t know how many of her comrades had died today. “I'm here. I’m gonna get us home.” He also didn’t know where home was. 

Was Winterfell their home? Up in the north where the cold wind blew even in summer. Was Dragonstone their home? Near the sea, the portal to the rest of the world and surrounded by the bones of those who had once ruled the world. Was King’s Landing their home? Now they had rescued the entire Kingdom and had proven that they deserved that pile of iron in the throne room of the castle. 

“I was afraid you were dead, like…” Daenerys opened her eyes and she shivered. “Jorah saved my life.” She tried to push herself up, but Jon shook his head and placed a hand on her chest. “He jumped in front of me. He died, so I…” 

“Could become the queen you deserve to be.” Jon kneeled down next to her. His entire body was still aching, but he had pushed through much worse. He had overcome death. He had survived a confrontation with the night king himself. Compared to everything he had been through, carrying Daenerys to safety and help would be easy. 

“Drogon isn’t strong enough to fly yet.” Just like she wasn’t strong enough to speak yet. “He tried.” 

“We’ll send people back for him as soon as we can.” Jon spoke softly and carefully he lifted her up. “Keep your eyes closed.” He took a moment to find his balance. “The sight isn’t pretty.” He climbed down Drogon’s wing again. 

The dragon opened his eyes and stared at the King in the North carrying the dragon queen. 

“Don't worry, buddy.” Jon pressed her a little tighter to his chest. “She'll be fine. I’ll make sure she’ll be.” 

The dragon groaned and Jon didn’t know if it was because he agreed with him or not. But when Jon started to walk away the dragon didn’t attempt to stop him, which he considered a good sign. 

“How many people did we lose?” Daenerys had her eyes wide open and although there already hadn’t been much color left in her face she was now pale white. 

“I don’t know.” Jon shook his head and kept on walking. He didn’t dare to look where he put down his feet. He didn’t want to know if he stepped on twigs or bodies. He had to keep on walking and keep on going. “Too many.” He paused for a moment. “I lost Sam."

Daenerys swallowed and she lifted her hand up so she could touch his neck. “I'm sorry.” The words didn’t make a difference, but there was nothing else to say, not even for Daenerys Targaryen. “We won’t forget them.”

Jon kept silent. 

Sam had been a great warrior. He hadn’t been good with a sword. He hadn’t been good with any weapon. He had never been a killer. But he had been smart. He had known things no one else knew. And he had had courage. He had been afraid, but that fear had never stopped him from doing anything. It had not stopped him from joining Jon, Daenerys and their army to face the army of the death. It had not stopped him from dying.

“We could name our children after them.” Daenerys spoke softly, but her voice sounded loud in the absolute silence after the war. 

“We’d need a lot of children to honor everyone we’ve lost in this stupid war.” Jon groaned and he let out a relieved sigh when he saw a small tavern in the far distance, not damaged by fire nor ice. 

“We could use double names. Or three double ones.” Daenerys curled her lips up into a smile, despite the huge amount of pain she without a doubt had to endure. “They didn’t die for nothing, Jon.” 

Jon wasn’t too sure about that. “War is pretty useless if you ask me.” He licked his dry lips. His feet counted the steps between them and the tavern in the distance. His legs would without a doubt carry him until their survival and safety and not an inch further. 

“I hate war just as much as you do.” She swallowed. “I've lost just as many people as you lost and I suffered just as much as you did.” Her voice was raw and she took a few deep breaths before she continued. “War is useless, but sometimes we don’t have a choice. They died so we can live.”

Jon turned his head away from her. He could already smell the fire place spreading it’s smoke and fire. Even though he had been surrounded by fire breathing dragons for months he had missed this kind of fire, this kind of warmth. But he doubted if it would ever be as pleasant again as it used to be, long ago, when he and Robb had still been innocent children who thought Ned Stark would be around for many more years to guide and advice them.

“We will live, Jon Snow.” She closed her eyes and finally gave in to the tiredness, the pain, the exhaustion. “Together.” 

Jon stared at her angelic looking face and eventually he nodded. “We will live.” He saw people rushing out of the tavern. His legs refused to carry him any longer and he fell down on his knees in the mud. Before he gave in to his own prostration he pressed a kiss on Daenerys’ lips. “Together.” 


End file.
